


Every Little Past Frustration

by thinlizzy2



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Mind Melds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:41:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinlizzy2/pseuds/thinlizzy2
Summary: After Spock's katra is returned to him, McCoy has some things he wants to discuss.
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52
Collections: Worldbuilding Exchange 2020





	Every Little Past Frustration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sixbeforelunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/gifts).



When Leonard McCoy got to Spock's quarters, he found himself hesitating.

That wasn't like him. He'd always been the straightforward type when it came to his own actions. Make a decision and carry it through - that was his pattern. But he needed a moment now, a breath of time and a chance to think. He couldn't help but wonder if this was how things were going to be, from now on. Whenever he had an impulse that went against his usual instincts, would he always question whether it was Spock's lingering influence in his mind?

It was kind of ironic. He knew that Spock had often wanted to exert some kind of lasting influence on McCoy's more hotheaded tendancies. And he'd literally died, at least temporarily, to get it done.

Screw it. He rang the bell.

Spock called out for him to enter, and McCoy stepped into his rooms. They were beginning to look similar to how the doctor remembered them from the first time the two of them had been posted together on the Enterprise. When Spock's katra had first been restored, his quarters had been strangely chaotic, with odd little knick-knacks seemingly randomly placed in the strangest locations. They looked more typical now - or typical for Spock, at any rate. Everything was carefully ordered and neatly arranged.

Not that McCoy had ever spent much time in Spock's quarters. They hadn't been that kind of friends. They spent time in each other's company when they were both with Jim. They didn't specifically visit with each other.

Well, he was here now.

Spock rose from the chair where he'd been sitting and reading. He inclined his head in greeting. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

McCoy couldn't help himself. The old pattern of needling his crewmate was as natural as breathing. "Don't get many guests, huh? Not going to offer anything to drink?"

Spock raised a single eyebrow. "Are you thirsty?"

The doctor sighed. "No."

"Ah."

The silence stretched out between them, and for one perverse moment McCoy was tempted to see how long he could ensure it. But he hadn't come here for that, and it was definitely no contest of which of the two of them was more tolerant of awkward quiet. He opted to cut to the chase. 

"Do you hate me?"

In the time before, he would have thought that Spock had no emotional reaction to that. But he'd had the Vulcan's living essence rooted deep inside his head for a not-insignificant period of time. He watched as Spock straighted his spine a few tiny degrees and tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the left and he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Spock was perturbed. 

"Hating you would be illogical."

And if any response could have been carefully selected to make McCoy scream with rage, it would have been that one. Somehow,he managed to control himself on this occasion. "Right. But pretend that doesn't matter. In a world where hating me is a perfectly logical thing to do, do you?"

He half-expected Spock to say that pretending isn't logical, but instead he just gave a barely audible sigh. "No. I do not."

The strength of his relief was a shock. "You don't?"

Spock shook his head. "No. Not in that hypothetical world or any other. I do not think I could ever hate you, Doctor." He regarded him curiously. "Is that all you wanted to know?"

It would have been so easy to just leave that there, but McCoy hadn't come here looking for easy. He made himself go on.

"Spock, when you were inside..." He tapped his own head. "Back when I had you in here. It wasn't like you were just sitting around, separate from me. I had all these... thoughts. No, not thoughts. Responses. Reactions." He hesitated, unsure whether to give a name to what was really bothering him. He decided that, having come this far, it made no sense to hold back now. "Emotions. I had your emotions."

He could have sworn he could feel the weight of that word drop like a lead balloon into the quiet room.

When Spock responded, his voice was only subtly strained. McCoy doubted he even would have noticed it in the time before, but he heard it now. "And that surprised you." It wasn't a question.

"Hell, yes!" How could it not have done? "Spock, I always believed you didn't even _have_ emotions! Everyone thinks that, about Vulcans! You know that. And you let me go on, saying things - calling you things - that I never would have said, if I'd known..." He trailed off. It was so hard to say it out loud.

Spock did it for him. "If you'd known that it hurt me."

McCoy swallowed hard. "Yeah." He remembered it so vividly, the deep and lingering hurt that he'd had felt every time he remembered some of their past interactions through the filter of Spock's katra. The sudden and unexpected nature of it had made every pang feel new and raw. "Spock, you have to know that if I had even dreamed that what I'd said made you feel that way, I never would have done it."

Spock sat down on one of his chairs, and beckoned for McCoy to do likewise. He settled into a hard and unpadded seat, and shifted uncomfortably. _Damn Vulcan furniture_ , he thought instinctively, and then flinched. He really needed to do something about that kind of reaction.

"Doctor, if your intentions were not to hurt me, why did you say the things you did?" Spock's voice was deceptively casual. Based on tone alone, he might have been discussing the weather on Rigel XII.

McCoy searched for an honest answer. He remembered some of the things he'd called Spock - _cold-blooded, heartless_ \- and he had to admit that it was a reasonable question. Why would anyone say those things unless they were looking to injure? It didn't make sense, but he also knew those hadn't been his intentions. "I guess... I wanted to make you angry. Even though I knew - or I thought - you couldn't get angry. I wanted to at least try to get you to where I was, because that's how humans argue. Or at least it's how i.argue. And maybe I just wanted you to know that _I_ was angry. I'm not going to lie, Spock. There have been times that you've seriously gotten me steamed, and I guess I needed to express that. To make it known." He paused, reflecting. "I think that was it."

Spock tented his fingers. "And you felt that your methods were more effective than simply saying 'Spock, you are making me angry?'"

McCoy couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it was strange. Leonard McCoy had never been a man who had trouble expressing his emotions. He smiled and laughed easily and often, and scowled just as frequently. When he loved a woman, he made damn sure she knew she was loved. But the idea of just outright saying telling another man that his actions were angering him felt off somehow. Alien, maybe. "Spock, can you even imagine me saying that?"

Had he not literally shared his head with Spock quite recently, there was no way he would have been able to know this, but right now he was certain. Spock was amused. Buoyed by that, he pressed on.

"But if I wanted any kind of reaction from you, I wanted it directed at me. I wanted you to be angry _at me_. You feeling hurt, in yourself, that's not something I ever would have wanted. And if I made you feel that way - no, not if. I know it. _Since_ I made you feel that way... Spock, I'm so sorry."

The Vulcan leaned forward. "I see."

That was, apparently, all. McCoy felt a wave of frustration rising up in him, but he made himself force it back. As upsetting as it was, he knew that he wasn't entitled to Spock's forgiveness. He was just about to say goodbye and turn to leave when Spock spoke again

"There are two things that I would like you to take away from all of this, Doctor, if I might make a suggestion. The first is that it might do some good for not just you but for all other species to acknowledge that Vulcans do indeed have emotions. Mine may process differently than most because of my human heritage. Then again, they may not. I have no way of knowing for certain. However, all Vulcans do experience emotional responses, in a full and complex range. We do not allow ourselves to be governed by them, but they certainly do exist."

McCoy nodded. "I'm going to keep that in mind going forward. You have my word on that. Spock, can I just ask why you never said anything to me about how you felt? If I'd known earlier, I would have stopped. You know that, right?"

"You may not understand this, Doctor, but there are some things Vulcans simply do not talk about. Emotions are certainly among those. We even only seldom discuss them with our own families, as our shared cultural understanding renders the need rare. The idea of mentioning them outside of that intimate circle... it is almost unthinkable."

McCoy couldn't imagine trying to live like that. "That can't be healthy though, keeping all your feelings bottled up like that." Psychiatry wasn't one of his fields, but even the thought of trying to keep himself in check that way was intensely stressful. "How do you stand it?"

Spock regarded him curiously. "You are a specialist in interspecies medicine, Doctor. Surely you must understand that what may be unhealthy for a human can be entirely necessary for the sustained health of another species."

In the past, that sort of comment would have prompted a thoughtless joke from McCoy, something about how only green-blooded blahblahblahs could have possibly existed in such a stifling environment. But now he just nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. All of that. I promise."

Once again, tiny changes in Spock's posture and facial expression suddenly revealed clues to his emotional response. He was grateful and he was touched; McCoy was certain of it. "The second thing I would like you to take from this experience, and this one is far more personal, is that you never could have hurt me if I did not hold you in the highest esteem. If I did indeed hate you, nothing you could say could possibly affect me. So, since you are now aware of my... emotional responses, you should also be aware that I do consider you to be one of my closest and dearest friends."

McCoy swallowed hard. That shouldn't have felt so necessary to hear, but damn had he ever needed it. "It's the same for me." Somehow, he got the words out. "I feel the same way about you. I don't know, honestly, if it would have been the same if it hadn't been for Jim, but it's not just about him anymore. You, yourself - you're my friend, Spock. I care about _you_."

There didn't seem to be anything else that needed saying, so McCoy stood up and turned to go. Spock rose from his chair to escort him out. Before the doors opened, the Vulcan spoke again. "You know, Doctor, if you ever do find that you are indeed thirsty, I would be happy to offer you a drink should you ever ask for one."

McCoy's laugh burst out of his throat entirely unexpectedly. "Spock, is that your way of inviting me to drop in for a beer sometime?" 

Spock nodded. "You are welcome here at any time, Doctor. I always enjoy your company."

To McCoy's human mind, a hug would have felt like the natural way to end the conversation. But he knew that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. So he settled for just giving Spock a big grin that - of course - wasn't returned. And somehow, that mattered much less than it ever would have done in the past. Still smiling, McCoy took his leave of his friend, and made his way home.


End file.
